


The End

by Blurrblez



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blurrblez/pseuds/Blurrblez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever truly escapes the D.J.D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> Just a badfic I managed to spit out after failing to write anything for a while. Mostly inspired by [this picture](http://kusuarts.tumblr.com/post/42517848382/your-misery-is-so-sweet) here by Kusuarts on Tumblr! Unfortunately the fic doesn’t do the amazing artwork any justice! Might chicken out and delete this later.

The ending was obvious. Or, well, it should have been obvious. The truth of the matter is that no one truly ever escapes the D.J.D. No. Not really. When you make it on that list, but some matter of sheer stupidity, luck, or otherwise… you’re there to stay. Only to be removed when you yourself are removed from… well. Existence.

So really, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when, inevitably, they were captured. It shouldn’t have. But it did. In some way they had all come to a world where they felt safe, comfortable amongst themselves. Each-other. And it had come to a hard, painful halt the moment they found themselves falling within the clutches of the D.J.D once again. None of them doubted it, the moment they were captured. No one doubted the fact that this time? They wouldn’t be making it out alive again.

“Nhhg…” It hurt. His every inch. His very being. His very soul. It hurt. Unbearably so. Yet he was still online. Still awake and alive to suffer through it. And Tarn, like the sadistic bastard he was, seemed to be enjoying every moment of the small K-Con’s suffering. He loved the pain-laced sounds he made, the way he writhed, and flinched from his touch. He loved caressing his helm, to see him wince, panic, attempt to grab and dislodge his arm to remove the mockingly gentle, caring gestures. The fake sympathy, softness.

Golden optics dimmed, the Coward gasping out as his spark clenched on itself, trying so hard to give up, while fighting so much to stay on. Alive. Expressions twisted, changed with each pulse. Each painful, agonizing pulse. He whined, gasped, tried and failed to plead through the static of his volcalizer. For himself. For his ‘crew’. It was pitiful. And Tarn loved how pitiful he’d made the mech. The very one that had tried so very hard to stand up to him not long ago. Had even gone so far as to attempt to offline him.

To bad he’d been made a dud by the same crew he’d tried so hard to save.

“Come on now, Fulcrum.” He purred to the now sobbing ‘Scavenger’, chuckling as he arched his back, convulsing with the reaction his voice caused. The painful, twisting, burning pain. “There’s no need to cry. You’re a strong mech, are you not? Your crew is long gone, you don’t have to keep trying.” He leaned closer to the K-Con, cupping his face, fingers gentle and caressing. He was sure there would be tears forming in the little mech’s optics were such a thing possible. Small, damaged servos grasped at his arms.

He leaned closer, smirking as optics widened, and the mech fought harder. To no avail. He had no fight left. He had nothing. No one. And both knew it. He had lost everything. Once again. And it was all his fault. “Fulcrum,” He took a rumbling invent, voice lowering as he continued to speak to the frightened mech. “Just… give… up.” The fine note came out a whisper, low and sharp. Like a blade, dragging through the the spark from the inside.

No one escapes the D.J.D. Not even a small, mismatched group of mechs trying to find their way home.


End file.
